"It's through the struggle that we have built our sisterhood" - Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 4/4

We are in conversation with Awa Fall-Diop, Senegalese feminist activist, educator and specialist in gender justice and social movement building. 

We learned about her childhood in a working-class neighbourhood in Senegal (Part 1), her upbringing and the beginnings of her feminist engagements (Part 2), and her analyses of the impact of the Beijing Conference (1995) on African women's rights (Part 3).

In this fourth and final part, we explore her thoughts on various topics such as the plurality of African feminisms, sorority and the importance of intergenerational relationships in activism.

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We speak as African feminists. How do you define African feminism?

Just as there is no such thing as feminism at the conceptual level, at the political level, at the level of reality, there is no such thing as African feminism either. We can't talk about African feminism, but about African feminisms, given that Africa is diverse and multifaceted. 

Africa has known different historical trajectories. Some countries were invaded by Christianity. Other countries were invaded by Muslim Arabs. Others have experienced one of the two, in addition to colonisation, either by the Dutch, Belgian, German, French or British. This gives our different countries different realities, and generates different cultures and different claims. Even if there is the strategic demand, the central demand that is shared, concerns equal rights, equal opportunities, equal chances among all social categories. I think it's interesting to ask the very question of the birth of this concept of African feminism: what was at the root of it?

What do you think it is?

African women, in all countries, didn't feel fully taken into account in the analyses made by the international feminist movement, which was essentially white, American-European-centric, and which therefore based its reflections and analyses on the experiences of white women. Black women as a whole, not just African women, but Black women, made the analysis that if white European women suffer gender oppression and class oppression, Black women suffer both gender and class oppression, but also racial oppression. That was the first level. 

What's the second level? 

African feminists, in a spirit of decolonisation, have added another dimension to show that, yes, Black feminists exist, but that we, as African feminists, suffer not only gender oppression as women, class oppression, racial oppression, but also oppression because we are women of the South. This has added an extra dimension to the parameters of oppression that we experience as African women.

And even there, as African women, we also had to make another distinction because the experience of women from the Maghreb is very different from the experience of South African women, who had to experience apartheid, just like that of women from Central Africa, West Africa, or East Africa. 

That's why you were talking about African feminisms.

Yes, this means that beyond the fact that we live on the same continent with specificities, there are also local realities that we need to consider in our analyses, as well as specific experiences. Don't you agree that we need to consider this? That's why, from my point of view, even when we talk about African feminisms, we must always carry out a contextual analysis to identify the mechanisms of oppression, the demands based on women's needs, and the appropriate strategies of struggle. That's my understanding of African feminisms, which I always use in the plural.

Intersectionality is a concept that allows us to understand that experiences of oppression are not uniform, and not to analyse them as isolated processes. Do you think our activism are sufficiently intersectional on the continent? 

Intersectionality, from the point of view of our analyses, is not yet a reality. I don't even mean from the point of view of our actions, but from the point of view of our analyses. We slip the word intersectionality into a sentence; we evoke it at the turn of an intervention to satisfy funders. We play with key concepts in our struggle. We play with the lives of other people whose rights are violated, who are denied all existence and who we'd like to wipe off the face of the earth.

For example, many cisgender feminist organizations are talking about it more and more, writing about it in their texts. But when we organize activities, it's always just us cisgender feminists. Maybe, from time to time, we'll invite a lesbian feminist, but we'll be careful not to let anyone know. Because we say to ourselves: there are safety issues. It's true that the issue is very complex, but I think we need to foster a revolution in our own ways of thinking, in our own organizations, and integrate intersectionality more into our thinking, our analyses and our actions.

I fully understand that we need to insist on a collective approach. These analyses must be collective if they are to be carried out properly.

Absolutely.

How have you experienced sisterhood in the course of your career? 

It was through the struggle that we built our sisterhood. In the movement, I remember - perhaps women's agendas have changed a lot since then with the hazards and rhythms of life, living conditions. But before, among feminists, even feminists who were in other organizations, we knew where they lived, we could go to their homes, and they could come to ours. We knew their families. We lent each other clothes and handbags. It may seem trivial, but it was important. That doesn't mean we didn't quarrel. Oh no, we quarrelled, we fought, we scratched each other’s eyes out. But that didn't stop one from sneezing when the other was cold. I don't know if you know what I mean.

I'm trying to understand. 

When one was cold, the other sneezed. This meant that what one of us experienced, the other felt. We had this assurance that, if something happened to me, the other was there with me. This meant we never felt alone. Not only in our country, but even beyond...

For instance, I'll give the example of one woman. Her name is Gisèle Yitamben. I think she's from Cameroon. I met her once. But to this day, at certain moments, I still hear her voice, I feel her presence beside me, I still see her gaze, and that comforts me. And I tell myself that I haven't seen her for at least 30 years. I saw her once, before 1995, so it's been over 30 years. But so far, she's been a comfort to me.

It's a strong bond. 

Yes. For me, sisterhood means I can trust you with my life, and you'll take care of it as if it were your own. That's what sisterhood is all about. It's not just giving me a hug, cheering me on, texting me. I don't know if you understand me. It's knowing that, when I have a problem in Senegal, I can run away and come to Benin, to Chanceline's, and I'll feel at home there, because she'll take care of me like she takes care of herself.

We weren't ashamed to show our weaknesses and flaws to the other sisters we worked with. Because we knew it would never be ridiculed or used against us, but that we would receive the support we needed. But we live in an age with so much individualism, with so many egos... Sometimes I look at some feminists, and I get the impression that they have the feeling that, if the sky fell, they'd only have to lift a finger for it to stop. Lack of humility is a hindrance to sisterhood. Lack of empathy, or the weakness of empathy, is a hindrance to sisterhood.

 I feel what you're saying.

We knew that if one of us fell, it was one less soldier in our army. And that we needed every single person to be well, ready to fight, because that was one of the necessities of our struggle. I'm not afraid to show my flaws within our movement, because I tell myself that's where I can get the help I need. She's the one who thinks more or less like me. She's the one who sees life as I do. She's the one who feels the way I do. So she's the one who can give me the help I need.

How do we build activist spaces that place benevolence and solidarity at their heart, including in conflict management and in mechanisms of responsibility?

We always say “don't throw the bathwater out with the baby”. This means that when one of us says something she shouldn't, it shows that she has a point of weakness on which she needs to be strengthened, to be guided. This doesn't mean that if you tell her "you made a mistake", she'll automatically accept it. But it does mean that this person needs a reference point. Because when we're born, we're born into a patriarchal environment. We receive a patriarchal upbringing. Even I, at my age, in my 69th year, know that I still drag around hints of my patriarchal upbringing that I have to keep working on. Feminist education is lifelong. A feminist who labels another feminist as "not feminist enough", is she herself feminist enough?

Aren't there any points on which she's still dragging on the reminiscences of her patriarchal upbringing? Patriarchal-capitalist? Those who haven't reached the other shore shouldn't laugh at those who are drowning. We have to help her keep her head above water. That's what sisterhood is all about: understanding that, as feminists as we are, all the messages we receive through the media, through our family conversations, through our states, even the subliminal ones, are patriarchal messages. And that we must continue to educate ourselves and each other, constantly, throughout our lives. That's what sisterhood is all about.

Lifelong feminist education.

Yes. Sometimes it shocks me a bit, the violence in spaces with young feminists. The denunciations between feminists, the attacks between feminists... You know, we were from different political parties, but once we got together within the feminist movement, in feminist organizations, you couldn't tell who was from which political party. You couldn't perceive the differences in party affiliation. And even when we blamed each other for things, we did so tactfully. We'd choose the right words to say to a sister: "What you've done isn't right," or "What you've done, I don't agree with”.

And that, for me, is also something important in sisterhood. Because you can't violently attack someone and then want to have a normal relationship with them. We're all human beings. We're all sensitive. I think if there's one thing the young feminist movement should be working on, it's how to reduce this violence within the movement. This violence that makes us almost insensitive to others.

Speaking of which, what's your vision of an intergenerational African feminist movement?

Intergenerationality is a must. In fact, I'm writing an article about it with another feminist. Right now, all eyes are on young feminists. I see a lot of young feminist organizations. But have you seen an organization of older feminists?

Hahaha

Is the feminist movement going to behave like the capitalist movement? In the capitalist movement, as long as you have the force of production, you're in the system. Once you no longer have the force of production, once you no longer serve the system, you're out. Is this how the feminist movement is going to work? 

I draw attention to this because intergenerational work, intergenerational relationships, are of great importance to me. First of all, I need to comfort myself with the idea that things aren't going to end with me and the feminists of my generation. I need reassurance on that point. It's completely emotional, completely psychological. And I assert that emotion. Then there are new issues emerging. Issues that we don't have, but that we see with younger people. And issues that the younger generation may not have experienced, but which can be read in the light of the past.

So how do you think we can build an intergenerational feminist movement? 

We often talk about intergenerational transfer. More and more, I'm talking about exchange. Because it's not only the elders who have something to teach the young, but the young also have something to teach the elders. It's this exchange that creates bonds. So intergenerational, inter-transmission too. Because no matter how old we are, we don't have a monopoly on the truth. Because it's been said that intelligence and knowledge are lost needles. An older woman can pick it up just as a younger woman can. The important thing is to find the needle. And just because you're older and more experienced in the movement doesn't mean you're any more feminist than the young.

The idea of inter-transmission is a fine way of approaching intergenerational movement-building.

I think I have an excellent example here in Senegal. There was a workshop on the Family Code. It was young people who took the initiative when the composition of the current government was published. They had taken the initiative to create a platform, a WhatsApp group. I was told about it. I said, "You've got to get me in there”.

There were other feminists older than me who were added. So everyone is in the group, and everyone gives their opinion. All opinions are treated equally. People agree with this? Let's do it. Agree with this? We do. People disagree with something? We don't do it. There are three generations in this collective. We take part in the meetings, but we don't say: "Oh no, from our experience, this is the way to do it.” No. We listen to each other, give our points of view and make decisions together.

That’s a fine example of intergenerational collaboration. 

I took part in the discussions, but I wasn't present at the workshop because I was on a mission. But I received the photos and, in them, people were seated without distinction of generation. In other words, we didn't put the elders on a separate table. They were seated as participants, period.

For me, intergenerational relations are like peer education. In other words, older people have a lot to learn from younger people, just as younger people also have a lot to contribute and learn from older people. And if we conceive it in this way, regardless of age, even between two elders or between two young people, in the feminist movement, every feminist, whatever her age, whatever her generation, has a lot to contribute and a lot to learn from the other, regardless of age or generation.

How do you live your feminist activism these days?

Over the last few years, my involvement has mainly been with feminist organizations. When I say feminist organizations, I mean cisgender organizations, as well as identity-based organizations. I support them because I feel it's my duty, my responsibility, to ensure that the chain is not broken.

How does it work? 

First of all, I learn a lot from young feminists. The conditions in which I worked are totally different from the conditions in which young people work today. The way of campaigning is different. And I bring my own experience to the table. I also learn a lot from sex worker organizations, LBTQ and so on.

From your experience, what strategy can we use to advance the fight against violence against girls and women on the continent? 

Teaching girls and women how to resist. Men will never give up their power. Where on Earth have you seen a person voluntarily relinquish their power without oppression? Men will never give up their power until they find resistance in front of them. He for She, positive masculinity... Pfff... It's all smoke and mirrors. Girls and women must be taught to resist and fight. Defend, resist, fight. 

And collectively. What is your daily feminist action?

My daily action is to love. To love unconditionally. To love every day. To love, quite simply.

One of the questions we often ask at the end of a conversations is: what's your feminist motto? 

Oh, I confess I've never thought about that. But I do know that what sums up my attitude, my thinking, my way of doing things, my way of living... It's three words: Resist, Fight and Win. And that's it. And that's also LOVE.

Thank you very much. It was a pleasure having this conversation with you.

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"I hope that with the current generation or with the next generations, we will experience a revolutionary revival" - Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 3/4

This is the third part of our conversation with Awa Fall-Diop, Senegalese feminist activist, educator, and specialist in gender justice and social movement building. 

We've learned about her childhood in a working-class neighbourhood in Senegal (Part 1), her involvement in Marxist and pan-Africanist organizations, and her fight for women's equality in education (Part 2). Now, we turn to her analysis of the impact of the Beijing Conference (1995) on African women's rights and the challenges facing feminist movements today. 

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This year, there's a lot of engagement about the 30th anniversary of the Beijing Conference. Were you at the Beijing conference or involved in the conversations when it took place?

The Beijing Conference in 1995 was my generation. I took part in the conversations. The African regional conference on women, preparatory to the Beijing World Conference on Women, was held in Dakar in 1994 and I participated in that.

Did you feel at the time that the specific concerns of African women were being taken into account in the 1995 Beijing conversations?

Yes, for instance, at the African Regional Conference on Women, in preparation for the World Conference on Women in Beijing, we said that we Africans had other concerns than those of European and American women. We said, for example, that the question of girls' education, the status of the girl child, and the question of girls' schooling were a challenge, a matter of development, of rights, and a priority for us. And so, with this battle waged by African women, the issue of the girl child was added to the Beijing Platform for Action. Every time I see the platform and I see this point linked to the girl child, it warms my heart because it's our imprint. It's the imprint of our struggle as African women.

Thirty years on, do you think things have changed? 

I believe they have. But not enough. Too slowly. Since Beijing, other texts, tools, and legal instruments have been adopted at the regional level in Africa. But why are the same demands still being made? How can it be that the same forms of violence and denial of rights are still taking place throughout the world? What have States and institutions done with these resolutions and declarations? How is it that the demands we were making thirty years ago are the same ones you're still making in your thirties? To me, things have evolved too little. Things have evolved too slowly concerning the promises made by international institutions, and too little concerning the promises made by the African Union, ECOWAS, and our various countries.

Feminists say that the Beijing Conference and subsequent processes have become institutionalized and reformist, even co-opted by neoliberalism and Western agendas. What's your take on this?

Let’s be honest. We live in neoliberal times. International institutions come from neoliberalism. We haven't had a revolution. We're not living in a revolutionary situation. So, we're trying to move within a neoliberal straitjacket. And that's something we need to be aware of. There have been revolutionary initiatives in the past. But our time, the historical time in which we live, is the triumph of capitalism in its neoliberal phase over socialism and communism. We are living and working in a neoliberal capitalist context, which is certainly in turmoil and deep crisis, but which has yet to be confronted by a social alternative of change and progress, a revolutionary alternative.

I hope that with the current generation or with the next generations, we will experience a revolutionary revival. I hope so and wish so because this can bring us closer to states and institutions with a human vocation and characteristics.

This is an informed analysis of the current situation!

The United Nations, as long as it is in this format, can only be made of neoliberal institutions because they were born in a context - and are the result - of processes stemming from neoliberalism. And we need to understand this objectively. Otherwise, we're going to lead fights thinking we're fundamentally changing things, but we're not.

What we're currently doing in the feminist movement is reformism. Sure, we're challenging patriarchal structures, but to what extent are we challenging them? We're still reformists. And that's something we're going to have to acknowledge if we're to enter a new revolutionary era. Personally, I don't yet sense the theoretical, practical, or organizational beginnings of a revival, of a challenge to capitalism and neoliberalism. 

Do you think there are key political issues that African feminism isn't addressing that we should be paying attention to or focusing on more?

Yes, the issue of neo-colonialism. I think that, until now, our analyses have focused on women, forgetting that, however much we may be women, we live in a social, political, and economic context and that we live in countries that have not yet reached their economic and political autonomy. What's happening in the Sahel region, with the Alliance of Sahel States (AES), precisely shows that in our analyses, there are political aspects that we don't sufficiently take into account.

Another example is what's happening today in South Africa with the land question, issues that should be linked to our analyses. Today, in this policy of land consolidation and redistribution, to what extent are the needs and concerns of Black South African women taken into account? 

Not to mention what's happening in Sudan. 

Yes, we need to broaden the political scope of our demands, linking them to issues much broader than the immediate condition of women. We need to take an interest in any situation or law that impacts our lives.

Even relations between the North and the South, relations between Senegal and France, and relations between the DRC and Belgium, when we analyse them, are issues that should interest us as feminists. Because there are still repercussions if we analyse what's happening in the DRC right now. These are still recollections of neo-colonial relations, of the colonial period. How do we analyse these facts? We need to take an even greater interest. And we don't do it enough. We need political education on these issues, because many feminists don't understand the specificities of the times we live in. 

How do we push this political education within our movements? One argument I often hear when these issues are raised is, "We already have enough problems in our own contexts."

All these questions are interrelated. It's like saying your whole body is dirty, but you’d rather wash your feet and hands, your head and neck, because that's what's most visible to people. Others will say: no, the most important thing is to keep your sexual parts clean, because that's what counts most. No. You can't dismember women's lives; it's not possible. Maybe we can have a focus, but we can't ignore the fact that there's an interrelationship between all aspects of our lives, whether cultural, political, social, economic, religious, etc. There's an interconnection. I'm sure that if we pushed the political question, we'd see that within our movement, we still have cracks in our political awareness. If we didn't ask ourselves the question, we wouldn't know. 

Do you think this affects our movements?

I tell myself that so far, we're winning on one side, but all the while, there's another side that we don't consider to be urgent yet. And when we win on the right, we realize that the left side is gangrenous. We tell ourselves that we must stick to the left side, and we forget about the right. And before we've even finished the left side, the gangrene has spread to the right. I give the example of what is currently happening in Senegal with the Family Code. The Family Code was adopted in 1972, a consensual code, albeit based for the most part on the Islamic religion, but which at least allowed progress in terms of conjugal rights for women.

What happened next?

Once the code was passed, we put it aside. From time to time, we'd talk about it, but we felt that there were more urgent matters, such as gender-based violence and rape, which are essential issues that we need to address. But in the meantime, we forgot about the Family Code. Muslim religious organizations, on the other hand, have continued to work on this code. Recently, they organized a major demonstration for a revision of the Family Code based entirely on Sharia law. Everyone was scared. There was an uproar. We made financial contributions and organized a workshop to define our own proposals. But the others had beaten us to it. And now we're trying to catch up. This means that our ability to anticipate is something we need to work on. 

There's this idea that we're always reacting instead of organising deep resistance. 

What enables us to have this capacity for anticipation is precisely understanding the global movement in which we find ourselves, and every aspect of which has an impact. For example, I wouldn't deny it if someone said there was a link between the election of Donald Trump and the vitality of Muslim religious organizations in Senegal. I wouldn't say there's no link. Because we know where Donald Trump stands on the issue of abortion, on the issue of gender, on the issue of identities and sexual orientation, on the issue of marriage, on the issue of the family.

And I'm sure that - well, it's not just in Senegal - that if we interviewed other feminists across other countries, we'd realise that the fact that Donald Trump is in power is having an impact on organizations that generally weren't as active but now feel truly reinvigorated.

His election and his comments about people of diverse genders have raised a wave of homophobia and transphobia in our region and online.

And so, in the spirit of anticipation, we can tell ourselves: with Donald Trump in power in the United States, what repercussions could this have in our lives, in our organizations? The damaging capacity of anti-rights and anti-gender organizations is their ability to anticipate. On our side, the weakness is our blindness to global issues and their repercussions in our own lives. 

Sometimes things happen, initiatives exist, but we don't know. Do you think the lack of connection between the different parts of the movement creates this?

Precisely. Since we don't know what's being done elsewhere, we get the impression that nothing is happening. You're right to bring that up. We need to talk to each other more, communicate more, and have a platform for conversations. We need to map out our interventions. At least to be able to identify areas, claims, and strategies deployed by others. Everything we do has to consider the connections between different aspects that are happening even outside our country. And, of course, within the limits of our capabilities, given the limited resources at our disposal.

The question of resources has a major influence on what we do and what we can do.

Exactly. Somewhere along the line, the responsibility of the funders is involved. Our organizations are so deprived, so precarious, that we don't have the strength to resist a funding proposal. As soon as we know that funding is available in a certain area, we sometimes even try to reformulate certain elements of our strategic plans, what word to add, what qualifier to change so that our mission and objectives fit in with this or that funder. And this is precisely due to the weakness, the financial precariousness in which we live as organizations, as activists, unfortunately.

In any case, I wouldn't criticise anyone or any organization for having this attitude. But we must realise that it weakens the impact of our actions and that it would be interesting to develop our capacity for political analysis. Because if we don't, we’ll never come to grips with the issue but keep on searching for its trail.

In the fourth and final part, Awa Fall-Diop shares her thoughts on topics such as the plurality of African feminisms, sisterhood and the importance of intergenerational relations in activism. Read more here. 

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“As long as there is oppression of any kind, there is a need for feminist movements.” - Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 2/4

We continue our interview with Awa Fall-Diop, Senegalese feminist activist, educator and specialist in issues of gender justice and social movement building. In the first part of this conversation, she shared with Chanceline Mevowanou the defining moments of her childhood. 

In this second part, we explore the beginnings of her commitment, the construction of her feminist convictions and her fight for equality in education.

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To introduce yourself, you said, “I am a pan-African feminist, a revolutionary activist for the liberation of Africa, the liberation of the human race, and the liberation of all women. ” How did your political convictions come about?

I think I was brought up to be a feminist from birth. In my family, when we praise women, we only praise what they've accomplished. I know the women in my lineage back through 20 generations. These are women who didn't let themselves be pushed around, even though they were not at the same level of political awareness as I am. I was born into a lineage of women who don't let themselves be pushed around. I'm not saying that “being born into that” is enough to absorb that education because there are other people in the same family who don't share my opinions. Perhaps what converted the feminist attitude into a feminist consciousness in me was my enlistment in Marxist, Leninist, Maoist organizations. I think that allowed me to structure my temperament and my upbringing into a political vision. 

How did you join these organizations? 

It was at the time of the single-party system in Senegal. The creation of other political parties was forbidden. These organizations came to raise awareness and used theatre as a tool. We used to perform theatre in my neighbourhood. What was being said resonated with me. What they were calling for corresponded to what was inside me. It resonated with me. That's how I got involved.

Do you remember the first organization you joined?

Yes. And its name meant “Act together”.

How has your involvement in these organizations helped to shape your feminist and political vision?

These organizations had training sessions on Marxism, class struggle, Pan-Africanism, Kwame Nkrumah, Amilcar Cabral, and Julius Nyerere. So, in this training course, we inevitably talked about oppression. It was easy to see the oppression of women by men, even within the organization. We began challenging them on certain practices that were far from being Marxist and, therefore, far from liberating. We were told that we had to work for the revolution first and that it was the revolution that would solve the problems of the people and the problems of women. We refused. We said there were issues that we had to solve here and now. We were not going to suffer while we waited for the revolution. We wanted to sort out the relationship between male and female activists within the organization. 

What you say is still relevant today. Many young feminists find it difficult to engage and collaborate with certain organizations that claim to be pan-Africanist because their vision of the continent's liberation does not include the concerns of women and other marginalized groups.

These organizations, which call themselves pan-Africanists with such a vision of African liberation, have certainly not read Samora Machel, Amilcar Cabral, or Thomas Sankara, who spoke specifically of women's liberation. We actually need to address some issues, such as the ones women and other marginalized groups face, to speed up the revolution.

What does feminism mean to you? 

For me, feminism is a political vision, a political commitment to fight against all forms of oppression between men and women, between women, and between countries and continents. As long as there is oppression of any kind, there is a need for feminist movements. 

You say, "It's a political vision, a political commitment." Could you explain what you mean?

Yes. Political is different from partisan. People often confuse the two. Partisan indicates which side you're on. For example, Chanceline, are you in the Republican Party to save Benin? Are you in the Democratic Party? That's being partisan. To be political is to have a global conception of the world, of how the world should be organized, how it should function. What is the place of each element, of each entity, not only human beings, but also animals, trees, flowers, seas, rivers, soil, sky, earth, air. That's what it means to have a political vision.

You've also defined yourself as a "revolutionary activist". What does this mean to you?

I'm a revolutionary activist because I'm convinced that change is the most enduring thing in the world. For example, since this morning, we've been calling you Chanceline. But the Chanceline who entered this room at 8 a.m. is not the same as the Chanceline who is sitting here right now. Are you aware of that? 

I know what you mean. 

Whether it's human beings or things, everything changes. Being revolutionary means accepting this principle. Not only accepting it, but also trying to provoke it, where there is resistance, where there are attempts at conservation. You know, even in the ecological movement, I'm against nature conservation movements. You can't conserve nature; you preserve it. Because nature carries change within itself. So, to be revolutionary is to be against any form of conservation, any conservative ideology, any conservative movement. It means being aware that change is inevitable. 

What actions did you get involved in, at the start of your feminist commitment?

We've done a lot of awareness-raising to change perceptions on various subjects: rights, equality, dowry, excision, and girls' schooling. I even remember that we were doing one of these awareness-raising sessions once, and the police came and picked us up, telling us it was forbidden. I've done a lot of work on these subjects through shows, public appearances, and speaking engagements. And petitions, too. I remember there was a time when a working woman couldn't pay for her child's medical expenses. Her male colleague with the same job and the same pay grade could pay for his child through the social security system, though. Other friends and I started a petition called "We are mothers, we are workers". It was based on this petition that the trade unions took up this demand. 

Trade unions in which fields?

Teachers' unions. I was a teacher. I taught French in elementary school. As we had friends in the regions, we circulated the petition throughout the country and got a huge number of signatures. Each of us pushed at their own union level to get the unions to take collective responsibility for this demand.

Have your feminist convictions influenced the way you taught at school?

Absolutely. To the point of creating an organization called ORGENS, Observatoire des Relations de Genre dans l'Éducation Nationale au Sénégal (English: Observatory of Gender Relations in the Ministry of Education in Senegal). As a teacher, I looked at the textbooks and saw that all the women in them were either sweeping, cooking, carrying a child, dancing, braiding, or styling their hair. The men in the books, on the other hand, were principals or had other jobs. One day, I took the manual and went to the Ministry. At the time, André Sonko was Minister of Education. I told his secretary: "I'd like to meet the Minister.” She said, "Do you have an appointment?" I replied, "No, I don't, but I must meet the Minister."

You were driven in your approach

The minister was coming out of his office. I said, "Minister, I need to see you." He replied, "About what?" I started talking, and he told his secretary, "Give her an appointment." On the day of the appointment, I came and explained my concern. I told him: "Mr. Minister, in the textbooks, there are 20% women, whereas they make up at least 50% of the population. In our country, there are female teachers in schools, but in the books, only men are represented in these positions. The books don't even feature a female teacher. In our country, there are midwives, female doctors, and female lawyers. But that's not shown in the books...".

I continued: "How do you expect the girls of our country to be able to project themselves into a future where they are something other than nannies, sweepers, housewives? How do you expect the school enrolment rate to increase if girls don't see themselves in a future where they occupy other positions of paid responsibility? How do you expect parents who look at these textbooks to change their view of girls?" He set up another meeting with the Department heads. And I came back. 

That’s impressive.

I came back. When I came in, a manager said to me: "Miss, you've made a mistake. What meeting are you going to?" (Laughter) I replied, "I'm going to the meeting with the Minister of Education." He said, "Really? With the Minister of Education?" I said, "Yes."

Sexism...

Yes. Then the minister arrived, and I explained. I was told, "Yes, we've taken note... But the books, the cost has to be paid off first, before we can change them." Later, the textbooks were changed. Some girls were looking through a magnifying glass, scanning the sky. Others had a globe.

Bravo for this initiative. What other actions has Observatoire des Relations de Genre dans l'Éducation Nationale taken in Senegal? 

We have developed training modules for teaching staff on introducing gender equality into teaching-learning situations. And we have trained quite a few of them. Today, if gender is introduced into textbooks and learning environments, it's thanks to this association. Once that was done, we said to ourselves that our mission was accomplished, because we aimed to institutionalise gender in the education system.

I saw that your experience with the Observatoire des Relations de Genre dans l'Éducation Nationale in Senegal was highlighted on your profile as an Ashoka Changemaker Innovator.

Yes, our concept was simple: If you want to change a society, this change must happen where the society is created. And you create society in the family, at school. Many teachers said after the training that they didn't realise what was happening because nobody had opened their eyes to it. You see, that's why you should never have the prejudice that it's not going to work. Some people behave in certain ways because they don't know any better. But once they do, they're able to change their behaviour.

What is your fondest memory as a teacher?

As a teacher, my fondest memory is finding one of my pupils in one of the biggest banks in Senegal. Now, this is the capitalist system, of course, and I'm fiercely opposed to the capitalist system because it is oppressive. But as a teacher, I was very pleased to see that she managed to rise to the top. Another time, we were at a political protest, and I saw two of my students who were reporters. Things like that give me great pleasure.

How did your feminist commitment evolve?

I'll have to think about it. The truth is, I've often let myself go with the flow. In other words, I go somewhere and see that people are making demands, and I come along and join the fight. And as time goes by, I find myself at the forefront of the fight. That's how my activism developed. I never thought specifically about how to develop my activism.

In the third part of the interview, Awa Fall-Diop shares her analysis of the impact of the Beijing Conference (1995) on African women's rights and the persistent challenges facing feminist movements today. Click here to read part three.

Join the conversation

We’d love to hear your thoughts on this first part. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.

“When I think of myself, I see a free Awa.”- Awa Fall-Diop (Senegal) 1/4

Awa Fall-Diop is a Senegalese feminist activist, educator, and specialist in gender justice and building social movements. Her attachment to the values of justice, resistance, and conviviality was shaped by her upbringing in a working-class community and is now reflected in her activism.

In this interview, Chanceline Mevowanou speaks with Awa Fall-Diop about her activism and her feminist journey. 

In this first part of the conversation, we will learn about her childhood, as well as the story of her mother, a woman from whom she takes her strength of character. Awa Fall-Diop also tells us how her upbringing and her activism within Marxist and PanAfrican organizations helped shape her political thinking and build her feminist beliefs. She also discusses her fight for equality for women in education and training (Part 2). In the third part of our conversation, she shares her thoughts on the impact that the Beijing Conference has had on African women’s rights and on the challenges that feminist movements face today. Finally, we discuss topics such as the diversity of African feminisms, sorority, and the importance of intergenerational relationships in activism (Part 4).

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Good evening, Maman Awa. I hope you are well.

I’m doing great.

Could you please introduce yourself to our community?

My name is Awa Fall-Diop. I am a pan-African feminist, a revolutionary activist for the liberation of Africa, the liberation of the human race, and the liberation of all women. 

Thank you for agreeing to chat with me. I’m curious to know what shaped your journey. Where did you grow up?

I was born and raised in a well-known working class community of Senegal called Grand Dakar. In Senegal, saying “I’m from Grand Dakar” is enough to indicate that a person has experienced things, has a temperament, and doesn't tolerate any form of oppression or subordination. This is our neighbourhood’s trademark. 

It’s a neighbourhood built by our parents since the colonial era, where I grew up and where I remember that every family was mine. I could eat with any family, if I didn’t like what we had at home. I could walk past a neighbour’s house, smell a dish that I found appealing and go in to eat, no questions asked. If I were in a backyard talking to other people and it was getting late, I was allowed to safely stay over and sleep in the house.

What you’re describing is wonderful. What memories come to mind when you reflect on your childhood in Grand Dakar? 

This solidarity and conviviality between the families is something that always stayed with me. I believe it is also one of the foundations that make me feel comfortable in movements. Thanks to the way the neighbourhood was set up, it was easy to go from one house to another without ever getting into the street. There were passageways between every house. Sadly, it’s no longer the case today because of urban violence, burglaries etc. Now, everyone shelters themselves in their homes. That’s a shame, because it hinders human relationships and solidarity.

Where did the conviviality in your neighbourhood come from back then?

It was in the way the neighbourhood itself was created. Most of our parents were the first people to live there. They were young couples of originating from farming communities, who came to work in the city as labourers. There was a similarity in generation, origin and social status among them. As a result, the children of one family were like those of another. And it lasted. People like me still reside in the neighbourhood… Many folks were born in Grand Dakar and still live there. We even got married to one other. (She laughs).

It must have been an amazing experience to grow up there.

At some point we planned a huge reunion with the natives who are still alive. Those whose parents had to sell their houses or who lived in other areas also joined us. It was a wonderful gathering where we reminisced about our childhood and shared stories. We were all together again and vowed to do it every year, because the way we lived there is truly the area’s trademark.

This reunion must have been moving. You said that a person coming from this area was perceived as someone who rejected all kinds of oppression. 

Yes, as someone who is driven.

Could you explain?

It may be because of our parents’ backgrounds; they left the rural world and wanted to succeed in the city. They did not only want to shape their destiny for themselves; they also wanted to shape their children’s destinies. That means educating the kids, setting them up in an environment that allows them to be people who know how to defend themselves, who know what they want, people who are driven. That requires a lot of determination.

Are there specific stories from your childhood in Grand Dakar that come to mind?

I remember two stories. Someone had rented out a room in the neighbourhood. He was a teacher and I was in the second grade, so I must have been 9 or 10 years old. A friend of mine lived in the house where he rented the room. Sometimes when we were passing by - we were a group of girls - he would call us and give us some money, 5 or 10 francs. Back then, 10 francs was a lot of money. Or he would give us candy. We would clean his room or clean his glasses. One time, I was passing by and I was by myself. He called me and said, “Clean my glasses.” I cleaned them and then he asked : “Are you menstruating?”* I immediately replied “Yes” and I left in a hurry. I went home and took my schoolbag to get my rulers. *(In French menstruating and rulers are the same word : règles)

My older sister was sitting nearby and she asked me “Why are you so frantic? What are you looking for?”  I replied, “I’m looking for my rulers.” She said, “Why are you looking for them? I don’t see you studying.” Then I answered, “No, someone asked me if I had my règles.” My sister stormed off. I saw her leave, and she went out to hit the man. I was mad at her.

Why were you mad ?

I was angry with my sister because I thought : “She’ll deprive me of candy. She’ll deprive me of the 5-10 francs I'm given all the time.” She said to me, “I don’t want to see you go to his room ever again.” The next day when we woke up, the man had moved. I blamed my sister. It’s only years later that I understood what had happened. This man wanted to know if I was pubescent. You see, when we talk about gender-based violence, sexual abuse and rape of little girls, it’s real. And this reality is not new.

Unfortunately, it is still a reality in our communities. What is your second story?

This one impacted me positively haha! One night, we organized a party. The boys, without telling us, had rented a room next to the venue. During the evening, from time to time, one of them would leave with his girlfriend to go into the room. If you didn’t go into the room, you wouldn't know it existed. But I'd noticed that when a couple went out, it wouldn't even be five minutes before they came back. I couldn't understand why. When it was my turn, my boyfriend said, “Come on, let’s go somewhere to spend some time alone.” As soon as we turned into the street, we ran into the grown-ups who were there and they said, “Hey, go back to the party.” That's how I understood why every couple who went out came back in less than five minutes.

Hahaha… Speaking of grown-ups, what was your relationship with your parents when you were a girl?

I had a strained relationship with my mother until I turned 22 years old. Because I do whatever I want. When I think of myself, I see a free Awa.  I was free. Unrestrained in my words, free in my actions, free in my movement. I didn’t like being prevented from doing what I wanted. Thankfully, I’m a fairly reasonable person.

Is that what caused friction in your relationship with your mother?

Yes. My mother was an extraordinarily strong woman. Allow me to go off topic for a moment, I’m going to share a part of my mother’s story.

Please do.

This is mainly about two years of her life. My mom was a Lébou. The Lébous are a community of fishermen in Senegal. They’re an inbred community, so my mom first married one of her cousins. She was the one who told me the story. She stayed married for eleven years and never missed a period. They lived in big compounds, so her husband’s brothers lived there with their wives and kids, too. At parties, the other husbands would buy several loincloths for their spouses. My mother would only get one. She was told, “Since there’s no one around to dirty your clothes, one loincloth is enough.” In the house, when she would call a kid to send them to the store, they would tell her: “If you want to send a child to the store, you should have one of your own.” Do you see this violence? When we talk about domestic violence, it’s not limited to assault and battery. It’s not only financial. The violence can also be psychological or emotional. She went through that for years, and then one night, she was grinding millet… You know, when you do that, you get blisters.

Yes, they form on the hands.

Exactly! She had blisters. At some point she stopped and wondered: “Who am I grinding for? No one gets my clothes dirty (meaning that no child urinated on her). Who am I grinding for?”. She put the pestle down, went to her hut, packed her belongings and went back to her parents’ home. And she was done with that marriage!

Two years later, she was on the train and she met my father. The train was crowded and a man (my dad) gave her his seat. That’s how they met and how their story began. Then my mother had her first pregnancy. She didn’t know she was expecting because she thought she was infertile. So she drank herbal concoctions, etc. When her first pregnancy was confirmed, her first husband came back. He came back to say it was his child because some children hide in the ribs for years before they’re born. They even went to court. My dad died later on. His brothers came and told my mother: “You’re a woman, you cannot run the household. So you need to sell the house and go back to your parents’.”

It’s sad that this still happens today. Many women are seen as incapable or unlawful, while they are the core of our families.

My mother refused. She told them: “The house I shared with my husband until he passed, is the house I’ll live in until I die.” They replied: “If you stay here, we won’t come to give you anything, not even a grain of rice. ”My mom said: “One day, I’ll be the one to bring bags of rice to your homes.” And that’s what happened. Later on, each time my uncles had challenges, she was the one who fought to fix their kids’ food, education and health issues and so on.

I understand why you said that your mother was exceptionally strong. How old were you when your father passed away?

I was 6 months old and my mom was 32 or 33. At the time, in 1956, she was young and there was no female head of household. In our neighbourhood, she was the first woman to be a head of household. She was this woman with a strong personality, who maybe raised me to be like her, and inevitably two strong personalities clash. Our relationship became more peaceful when I turned 21 or 22. That’s when we became confidants. 

How did it go ? 

She would always wait for me to be present to talk about serious topics. My older siblings complained. Before passing away, I’m the one she called to tell me : “Awa, I entrust you with the family.” Maybe because I’m the one who inherited her personality and her character the most.

Could you share some of the significant conversations you had with your mother?

We talked about many things, including sexuality. For instance, my firstborn is a daughter. She would tell me : “You have to massage her clitoris. If you don’t, she won’t be a real woman later.” You see? Or she would say : “You know, sexual intercourse isn’t penetration only. You can play.”

That’s so different from the narrative of these issues being taboo in African families. Do you think this open-mindedness influenced other areas of your life?

I believe that she passed that on to me as well. I have no taboos. I talk about sex, pleasure and life because it is a part of life. There’s no aspect of life that I do not talk about with complete peace of mind and serenity.

That’s inspiring. What was the socio-political climate for girls when you were growing up?

Girls’ access to education was not as important as it is now. The realisation of the necessity of educating girls was not as significant as it is today. However, my mother, who was illiterate, thought that every child had to go to school. Do you want to know why I know French so well?

Tell me

During the holidays, my mother would buy a dictionary and give it to me. I had to recite it.

Laughter…

I knew the dictionary by heart, le Petit Larousse. Her logic was simple: if you want to know Islam, you learn about it in the Quran. If you want to learn French, you learn it with the dictionary. And you couldn’t play until you recited your page.

In the second part, we'll talk about the construction of Awa Fall-Diop’s political and feminist convictions, shaped by her upbringing, her involvement in Marxist and pan-Africanist organizations, and her fight for women's equality in education. Click here to read the next part.

Join the conversation

We’d love to hear your thoughts on this first part. Let us know in the comments below, or let’s chat on Twitter, Facebook or Instagram @EyalaBlog.